Vanities

Double Jeopardy!

Alex Trebek has been hosting game shows since 1966, when, as the eager presenter on Reach for the Top, the Ontario native wooed Canada’s television-viewing public. In 1984, Trebek began hosting Jeopardy!—and he’s been a mainstay in American homes ever since. As the inimitable host prepares for this February’s College Championship, our correspondent checks in.

George Wayne:Rumor has it, Alex, darling, that you are flatulent in three languages.

Alex Trebek: Ha! No, but I am fluent in English and French and a little bit of Spanish.

G.W.In fact you once said, “I’m fluent in English and French. But I can fool around in German, Italian, Spanish, and Russian.” Which sounds like something James Bond would say to a well-heeled Shanghainese femme fatale at the bar of the Hong Kong Jockey Club. Are you a bit of a ladies’ man, Alex?

A.T. I have been happily married for 21 years to a wonderful woman who is much younger than I am. I think that’s the way to go. I was never really a womanizer. I didn’t mean that as a sexual connotation. I hope I’m not disappointing you.

G.W.Not at all. You’ve been on television since the Paleozoic era, Alex. You are the last of the Mohicans, as it were …

A.T. I have just celebrated my 50th anniversary in broadcasting.

G.W.O.K., let’s get to the nitty-gritty—how is your Achilles tendon doing?

A.T. It is improving and I am no longer on crutches. It’s been three and a half months; it’s probably going to take about six months to be fine.

G.W.That was such a bizarre story, Alex. I want to hear every last detail, every last minutia. You are in a hotel room in San Francisco. It is 2:30 A.M., and you are awakened by a cat burglar in your room. Which hotel was this?

A.T. The Marriott, and, yes, I woke up and saw a female figure. I thought it was my wife, and then I realized that my wife was still in bed beside me. I heard a noise, got up quickly, and saw that the door was ajar and there was a woman walking away.

G.W.And you ran out to the hall with your enormous low hangers swingin’ in the wind. You were naked in bed, the report goes.

A.T. I put on my boxer briefs.

G.W.Was it Jockey or was it Hanes?

A.T. That I don’t remember, but I confronted the lady and told her I was calling security. She took off, and I took off after her, and that’s when I tore up my Achilles. I gave them a description and they apprehended her 30 minutes later. We got everything back but the cash and a bracelet. She’d stuffed my wife’s purse behind the ice machine. And on the floor below, she stuffed my wallet behind the ice machine.

G.W.How do you sleep, by the way? Do you sleep like a log (on your left sideways), or do you sleep like a starfish (on your back, arms splayed)?

A.T. I sleep on all my sides in basic one- or two-hour increments. I am a light sleeper.

G.W.Better yet—a light, naked sleeper.

A.T. Not usually, and I wasn’t really naked that night—I had a T-shirt on.

G.W.Does anyone ever mistake you for James Caan?

A.T. No. I get Pat Sajak all the time. I get recognized on the street all the time, but people don’t seem to remember my name. I’ve talked to Pat about it, and he said he’s never, never had anyone come up and call him Mr. Trebek.

G.W.And is the mustache gone for good?

A.T. Well, it’s gone for a while. I joke with the audience. People who come to tapings keep asking me about it. I say, “Well, guys, I can bring it back anytime I want; it’s in the drawer in the dresser in my dressing room.”